


Pens

by Arlyshawk



Series: Dream of Fire [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Attempt at Humor, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 18:17:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11514825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlyshawk/pseuds/Arlyshawk
Summary: Everyone has their nervous ticks... Malavai's just happens to be breaking every single clip off of the styluses on the Fury.





	Pens

**Author's Note:**

> This is purely to indulge my headcanon-riddled brain. I'm not sorry.

Malavai clicks the clip of a stylus with his thumb as he scans reports while Jaesa and Quinn are gone on Belsavis. The clicking noise is the only sound on the bridge save the gentle sounds of Twovee’s feet on the deck. The habit picking at various objects - pens, datapads, book spines - had happened by accident while he was in the Academy, he did it while he thought or studied. Quinn jokingly says that every time they go to two or three planets she almost has to go buy more stylus pens for him. The thought makes him shake his head, smiling to himself.

He inputs commands into the Fleet database, glancing down at the numbers that he procures from watching what few instances of galactic warfare they have experienced.  He’s dimly aware of Vette’s footsteps on the stairs.

_Thwack!_

A stylus pen grazes the side of his head and Malavai yelps, hand clutching the spot where it hit him. It’s a stylus pen. He whirls, catching sight of Vette and the rather displeased look on her face.

“Pen murderer!” Vette shouts, jabbing a finger in his direction.

He blinks at her owlishly, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Captain. Quit murdering the stylus pens - I need them,” She goes over and picks up the one she threw at him. She offers it to him, rather.. she exposes the very obvious lack of a clip on the end of it, “Stop. Killing. The. Pens.”

“Vette -,”

She swipes the one out of his hand, gives him the broken one, and makes a dash back to her quarters, “I’m telling!”

The brief conversation that he had with Quinn about blood pressure medication is becoming tempting. He goes back to the datapad and finds the lack of a clip mildly agitating. The information from Commander Calum on Quinn’s progress is ferried to him, though whether he does it because of mild paranoia or because what has happened, he doesn’t know. Funny, she’s not on Belsavis.

“I don’t know why they would go opening vaults that they don’t know the contents of,” The fact that Jaesa’s voice is like a whip makes him look up. “It makes no sense!”

“It’s not supposed to. A lot of our soldiers get into trouble that’s beyond their commission. Look at Hoth, everything was engaging our forces and they were pinned down for weeks,” He imagines the way Quinn talks with her hands when she’s explaining something, the way she flicks her wrist and tries to form imaginary shapes with her hands. “I’ll go get Vette or the Captain so you can rest. You’ve done well today, Jaesa.”

The shadows on the wall warp, “Thank you, master.”  

Quinn appears on the bridge after that exchange, running a hand through her russet hair. Exhaustion discolors her face, makes it sallow and slouching her shoulders. She bypasses him entirely, flopping rather ungracefully in a chair. Her small form suddenly seems.. drawn in. She brings her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on her knee. He watches her for a long moment while she rubs her forehead with her knuckles. Her connection with the Force is too strong, he thinks, if that’s remotely even possible.

Malavai approaches her, standing at her side, “Migraine?”

Quinn turns her red rimmed eyes up at him, “I hate snow.. It makes everything worse.”

At first, he doesn’t move and waits until she leans her head into his arm like a cat wanting attention. Her eyes are shut tight, as if pressing the pain away, and only seem to lessen when he rubs the back of her neck. Pressure points never work, they aggravate her headaches.

“I swear, if I have to spend one more minute on the icebox, I’m going to throw up,” Quinn’s face scrunches up, twitching when he finds a knot. “Jaesa likes the cold, and while I don’t mind it, the glare makes these headaches worse.”

Quinn flinches when a knuckle hits the base of her skull, “I forgot that was sensitive.”

“Boss!” Vette’s boots click on the floor and Quinn’s eyes snap open halfway, expression like that of a wet cat’s. The Twi'lek stiffens, blinking, “Bad time?”

Quinn clears her throat, but he doesn’t move his hand. After all, Vette is the one who started telling him to just kiss Quinn months ago. She leans into his fingers, trying to encourage him but he keeps still.

“Vette, I’m a little preoccupied,” His lover’s voice is a knife. “What do you want?”

“You need to tell Captain Pen-killer here to stop killing the styluses!”

“That sounds like a personal issue, dear.”

“I can’t work with him!”

“You said that about Pierce a week ago because he took apart your blasters. And yet, you’re still here.”

Vette groans dramatically, “Booooosssss! Please tell Malavai to stop!”

Quinn glances up at him, eyes dark with mild exhaustion, “Stop killing the stylus pens.”  

Malavai nods, “Of course.”

“See? Was that so hard?” Vette says, throwing her hands up before disappearing again as quickly as she appeared. Quinn moves her neck and her neck lets out a rather loud  _click_  before she rests it back in his hand. Dipping his head, he kisses the crown of her head. A smile softly creases her mouth, the one that softly illuminates the exhausted shadow that passes over her. He returns to work until she curls up in the chair in a tight ball, her black coat and a blanket pulled around her.

And he swears he’s never seen a lovelier sight.


End file.
